


Feels shorter than the Day

by The_law_scholar



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Major Illness, Sick Character, Sick Roy Mustang, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22982146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_law_scholar/pseuds/The_law_scholar
Summary: It was all gradually escalating. Everything that was initially deemed as inconvenient, bad luck shifted to something worthy of concern and, eventually, panic.Or, the story in which Mustang’s team tries to diligently support him in a time of need by suppressing their anxieties about what it would be like to have to live without him.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

When Riza Hawkeye chose to designate the rest of her life to standing by Roy Mustang’s side, she also designated her life to learning each sign of every mood and how to remedy it all before he did something stupid. For an example, when he was feeling irritable, he’d scowl at every noise made by his subordinates. He’d drum his fingers on his desk and snap when anything required his attention. The solution: a cup of hot coffee and space, otherwise he could very well set all of his paperwork on fire. Riza knew from experience this caused more problems for the Colonel down the road that may lead to an all-nighter or two which would inevitably worsen his mood and the mood of those around him. 

That being said, not even she could always predict Roy. This Thursday afternoon seemed to be one of those instances. His body language conveyed his usual symptoms of anger, yet when she tried to bring him coffee, she seemed to only worsen his mood and he had yet to so much as touch it. He also wasn’t snapping at his subordinates, but rather hissing through clenched teeth. His right hand was scribbling a sloppy signature while his left was keeping his head propped up. His fingers dug into his black hair and his brow was furrowed in either concentration or irritation. No one had dared to say a word to him in over an hour. 

Riza continued her observation with a small frown until one minor reaction from Roy gave her the answer she was looking for. The phone on her desk rang, the high-pitched noise filling the room with its obnoxious tone. Before Riza could grab it, Roy’s response caught her attention. He grimaced, his fingers clenching his hair tighter until his knuckles turned white and he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. Either Roy had a hangover from hell, or he had over-worked himself toward a migraine. Riza wished it was the former, but she knew better. 

“Are you going to answer it, Lieutenant?” Roy drawled without looking up. Riza was thankful he hadn’t caught her staring at him. 

She reacted quickly. “Uh, yes, sir. Sorry.” Not wanting to worsen Roy’s agony, Riza pulled the phone of the cradle. “This is First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.” 

Riza recognized the voice on the other end immediately. “Hey, Lieutenant. I’m leaving now to report to Colonel Bastard. Should be there in about fifteen minutes or so.” 

Riza knew that Ed was supposed to have made an appearance that morning to report to the Colonel and his tardiness hadn’t gone unnoticed by her exasperated superior. However, she thought of the usual banter that broke out whenever the two of them were in the same room and then took in consideration Roy’s current condition. Inevitably, Ed’s appearance would make him feel worse if the teenager involved himself. Riza couldn’t help but glance at Roy agaid and she heard the reluctance in her tone as she responded. “Ed, I don’t know if--” 

Upon hearing the name of the young alchemist, Roy looked up. “Fullmetal finally decided to drag his ass to my office? He was supposed to be here hours ago. His status does not excuse him to be tardy any time he damn well pleases. Tell him to report to me at once.” 

Riza knew better than to argue when Roy was in one of his moods. Still, she wished she could convince him to postpone. Ed’s tendency to be defiant would inevitably worsen his migraine. That being said, any unwanted comment from her would as well. “Yes sir,” she agreed softly. She turned her attention back to Ed. “The Colonel says to get here as soon as possible.” Riza hung up the phone, opting to ignore Roy’s comment.

“That’s not what I said,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to his paperwork. Riza didn’t respond, but instead silently contemplated whether or not getting him painkillers from the infirmary would get her head chewed off. On her left, Havoc raised his eyebrows at their Colonel’s foul mood, but even he didn’t dare test him. Riza, if anything just to prevent any unwarranted questions from the Second Lieutenant, turned to him and mouthed, ‘migraine’. 

At this, Havoc studied Roy for a moment before shrugging. “That explains it,” he whispered, quiet enough for just her to hear him. 

After a few minutes of working in silence, Riza excused herself for a latrine break. It was a rouse, as she actually just wanted to meet Ed outside before the rebellious teen made a loud entrance that would add to Roy’s suffering. She walked down the hall, far enough to be out of earshot, and waited patiently. In Roy’s condition, it would be unlikely that he’d notice her extended absence. 

Thankfully, Ed showed up in a matter of minutes. The clanking of Al’s armor giving them both away. “Hello, Ed. Alphonse,” Riza greeted politely with a smile. The boys--Ed in particular--could cause trouble, but she couldn’t deny that both brought light to the office that she now couldn’t imagine living without. 

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Alphone’s chipper voice greeted her. Of course, it was he who gave her the first formal greeting. Alphonse never ceased to be the more mature, civil one of the two brothers despite his younger age. 

Ed, in his usual fashion, skipped the formalities. He scoffed, apparently in a foul mood of his own, no doubt knowing he would receive a lecture from the Colonel due to being late for another report. “What are you doing out here?” he asked her. “Don’t tell me the Colonel’s especially pissy today.” 

Riza tried to smile. After all, Ed was a teenager, and it was only natural for him to respond to the prospect of a lecture with opposition. However, concern along with defensiveness on Roy’s behalf prevented her from doing so. “Don’t be too hard on him today, Ed,” she scolded lightly. “He’s… it’s been a long day for him.” 

Ed didn’t seem to take her warning too seriously. “Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively, “isn’t it always the case with the bastard?” Ed walked past her, already opening the door to the office. Apparently, he didn’t want to waste any time getting his lecture over with. Alphonse, on the other hand, somehow managed to look sheepish on his older brother’s behalf without having an actual face. Riza simply watched Ed disappear behind the door and sighed heavily to herself. This would not end well for anyone. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Strolling through the office, Ed could see Lieutenant Hawkeye hadn’t been exaggerating. In fact, the whole office seemed to be more jaded than usual; he had never seen it so quiet in the three years that he had been in and out of the place. “Hey, Chief,” Havoc greeted him, he tone lacking its usual enthusiasm. He was quiet--a little too quiet for Ed’s liking. 

“Lieutenant Havoc,” Ed greeted, not being able to keep the surprise out of his voice. His eyes darted around the room and he noticed that everyone else was just as deadened as Havoc and Hawkeye. He suspected Mustang had either given them all an ass chewing or they were trying to prevent one. Ed moved his gaze to the Colonel in question and Mustang either hadn’t noticed he entered the room or didn’t care. The Colonel was furiously flipping through a stack of papers, his expression all but welcoming. When Ed looked back at Havoc, the Second Lieutenant looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Instead, he gave Ed a look that could only be described as desperate and pleading. A shake of his head vocalized what his words didn’t: don’t. Ed frowned in response as he didn’t know what he wasn’t supposed to be doing exactly, seeing as the Colonel was the one who demanded he make an appearance in the first place. Behind him, the door opened again, and Ed didn’t have to turn around to know that Al entered the room with Hawkeye more than likely in tow. Al’s usual noise seemed to be enough to finally catch Mustang’s attention as dark eyes darted up, instantly narrowing in frustration. The look Mustang was giving him was almost enough to make Ed flinch. Almost. His pride, however, would not let Mustang have the upper hand in the stare down. 

“Fullmetal,” Mustang greeted, his voice quiet and slow. “Is there a reason you think you’re exempt from orders? If you look around, you’ll see other soldiers in the military, all of whom are of a lower rank than you. Yet, each of them seems to be able to come to work on time. I asked you to be here at 1000 hours, a perfectly reasonable time if you ask me, yet it’s currently past 1200 hours and you’re just now making an appearance? Your age does not mean the rules don’t apply to you, Fullmetal. Care to explain?” 

Mustang’s temper immediately put Ed in one of his own. He felt his face grow hot due to being scolded like a child in front of the rest of the team and his fists clenched at his sides. “First of all,” he began through clenched teeth, “my train didn’t arrive at Central until well after midnight. In case you forgot, you sent me and Al on another goose chase that turned out to be a dead end. Again. Maybe if you actually knew what you were doing, Al and I would have our bodies back by now and I wouldn’t have to be working for you anymore.” 

Mustang seemed unphased by Ed’s comment. “You are more than capable of resigning if you’d like, Fullmetal, I’ve always given you the option. Don’t forget that my duties helping you correct a mistake that you made of your own free will comes after my duties to my job and this country. If you don’t want my help or the resources I offer you through the military, then put those words on paper and leave my office at once.” 

Ed couldn’t deny that the comment from Mustang hurt. The last thing he needed was to feel like a nuisance for needing help getting his and Al’s bodies back to the way they used to be. He also didn’t need an arrogant bastard such as the Colonel to remind him of his own mistakes. Ed marched up to Mustang’s desk quickly, ignoring the protests that came from the rest of the team. “Bastard!” he shouted, slamming his hands on Mustang’s desk. “If you’re going to hold it against me, then I don’t want your help! I came to you because despite what me and Al did, you still offered to help us. I thought you of all people would understand what motivated us to do what we did. If you’re going to judge us, then you can screw off, you selfish, arrogant, bastard!” Ed was panting from anger now and he swallowed behind the lump in his throat. The last thing he was going to do was let Mustang see just how much those words of judgement affected him. 

Mustang, on the other hand, didn’t look remorseful. His eyes were squeezed shut and his breathing became labored. If anything, he just looked more pissed, and Ed had to restrain himself from reaching across the desk and slapping the look off of the Colonel’s face. Mustang rubbed his temple and drew in a breath and Ed found himself unable to read the look on his superior’s face. Finally, Mustang spoke, but his words were as unhelpful as ever. “Excuse me,” was all he said, and Ed could only watch in surprise as he stood and walked right past him, exiting the room calmly. 

“That’s it?” Ed muttered to himself. He drew in a deep breath, exhaustion replacing his anger. No apology, no comeback--he got absolutely nothing from Mustang other than a departure? Suddenly, Ed found himself wondering why he was expecting anything more from his superior. The rest of the room was dead quiet, now the rest of Mustang’s team were staring silently, clearly as surprised by the Colonel’s behavior as Ed. He didn’t miss the sympathy in their eyes either and he couldn’t tell if it was appreciated, or only added to his humiliation. Hawkeye looked the most sympathetic, but her brown eyes conveyed an unspoken apology on behalf of Mustang and Ed found himself wondering why she was always left to express remorse on behalf of the bastard she worked under. 

Ed pulled out the written report he compiled on his way to Central while riding the train from beneath his jacket. Without saying anything else, he placed it on Mustang’s desk, silently daring the Colonel to make any sort of remark about it not being up to par as he sometimes did when they were written in a rush. Ed then left the office, only saying, “let’s go, Al,” before leaving. He heard Breda’s goodbye but opted to ignore it, not liking how Mustang’s team was being sympathetic when they weren’t the ones who had behaved unfairly. 

"Brother, wait up!" Al called after him, the sound of his armor getting increasingly more loud as he jogged to catch up with him. Ed didn't slow his pace, his anger directing him down the hall, a way from Mustang's office as quickly as possible. "Maybe you shouldn't take it too personally. The Lieutenant did say that he was having a long day. I'm sure he didn't mean it." 

Ed didn't stop. "I'm sick of everyone making excuses for that bastard," he hissed. "He was out of line and justifying it only proves that he thinks he can get away with being a jerk just because he's a higher rank.Personally, I'm sick of it, and I have half a mind to turn around and fill out a resignation letter too. I will if he says one damn word about the report." The bathroom came into sight at the end of the hall, and before Al could respond to his rant, Ed pushed open the door. "I have to piss." 

"Brother--" Al began, but the rest of his protest was drowned out by the door closing behind him.

Ed felt a little guilty for being rude to his younger brother, and he knew he'd have to swallow his pride and apologize when he was finished. He headed to the first urinal, muttering curses to himself quietly when a noise from the large stall on the end caught his attention. The occupant was retching violently into the toilet, making Ed grimace to himself when he heard sick splash into the water. Someone is having a shitty day, he thought as he finished his business and headed over to the sink. As he washed his hands, he noticed a military jacket hanging on a hook beside the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the stars on the shoulder and the familiar decorations around the collar. Instantly, Ed turned around in shock, facing the stall with the sick man and called out softly. "Colonel?" 

Mustang didn't respond right away, which was to be expected as he was a little occupied throwing up. He heaved again and groaned, the sound echoing throughout the small bathroom. Ed approached the stall out of curiosity and peered through the crack in the stall. He could see a small portion of Mustang's back hunched over the toilet and he opted to go back over to the sinks to give him at least a little more privacy. Ed felt a pang of sympathy, but he still didn't deny that the Colonel had been out of line earlier despite feeling poorly. Eventually, Mustang rasped out a reply, though Ed could barely understand him through his panting. "I'm a bit busy, Fullmetal." The response was followed by a heave of legendary proportions and Ed was torn between leaving and allowing Mustang to wallow in his misery alone, or staying and making sure was alright. Not that Ed cared or anything, but he opted to do the latter, only because he was already there and it would be humiliating if his commanding officer died by suffocating on his vomit or somehow drowning himself in a toilet. 

Eventually, the flusher was pulled, but Mustang took his sweet time exiting the stall. When the door finally opened, the Colonel looked surprised to see him still standing there. However, he said nothing as he unceremoniously staggered over to the sink, bracing himself on either side of the ledge as he stood panting over it. He turned the water on and cupped his hands underneath, raising the water to his lips to rinse out his mouth. When he was finished, he still remained leaning over the sink, avoiding eye contact with Ed, yet the words he spoke still sounded surprisingly sincere. "I was out of line, Fullmetal. I don't want you to resign. I don't." 

Ed opened his mouth to reply, but Mustang suddenly winced and put a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut. It was the same look he had in the office earlier after Ed had shouted, and suddenly all of the pieces of the puzzle fit together. "Is it… a migraine?" he asked quietly. 

Mustang chuckled, though there was no humor in the weak sound. "Yeah, I feel like I just tried to out-drink Major Armstrong again." Mustang winced again, bending over further, his elbows coming to rest on either side of the sink and his hands being used to prop up his head. 

Ed certainly hadn't appreciated Mustang's earlier comments, but he couldn't deny that he'd be a pain to deal with himself if his head felt like it was being split open. "Maybe you should go home?" he suggested. "Should I get someone? Do you need me to get pills or anything?" 

Mustang swallowed audibly, looking uncharacteristically green very suddenly. It was clear that throwing up hadn't fully taken care of the Colonel's nausea. "I'll be fine. I'll be heading home shortly. You may leave now, Fullmetal." 

Ed got the sense that Mustang wanted privacy, which was to be expected. He himself wasn't a fan of having an audience when he was sick, and he didn't expect any less from the stoic man in front of him. "Okay. My report is on your desk. Feel better, Colonel." 

"Mmm," was the only response Mustang seemed up to giving him. 

Ed didn't say anything else. He left the bathroom quickly and found Alphonse sitting on a bench outside of the bathroom. "Is everything alright, Brother?" Al asked him, worry evident in his tone. 

Ed nodded slowly, offering a small smile. "Yeah, but the Colonel sure is having a shitty day. He's sick. It explains why he was being a bigger bastard than usual, though. Guess I should give him a break. This time, at least."

"Should we tell someone?" 

Ed shrugged. "Nah. He didn't want me to. He'll live, but you bet I'll be giving him hell for this when he's not too pathetic to fight back. Come on, Al, I'm starving." Ed began to walk down the hall, but stopped suddenly to look back at his younger brother. He lowered his voice, tone growing more serious. "And sorry if I was being a jerk earlier." 

Al didn't hesitate. "It's alright. You don't need to apologize." 

Ed smiled softly. "Yeah, I do." With that, he began to walk again, deciding that tomorrow he'd come back to check if the Colonel was feeling human enough to give him an assignment or another possible lead on the Philosopher Stone. 

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to make sure the bastard was still alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. I'm only glad it didn't take a year to finish.

“Are you just inherently stupid, or have you just breathed in too many fumes from smoking people all these years?” 

The comment from Ed made Roy raise his eyebrow, though he wasn’t actually surprised at the lack of insubordination from the unruly teenager that stood in front of his desk. “Excuse me, Fullmetal?” 

Ed grit his teeth. “Lenora? The town you sent me and Al to just last week? Why are you suddenly acting like you don’t know it exists?” 

Roy furrowed his brow in concentrating, trying to think over Ed’s ranting. He had just asked one question regarding why Ed had brought up a place called Lenora during their visit, and suddenly the angry teen was acting like he was a complete imbecile. Truthfully, though he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, his brain had been like a pool of fog recently, which he credited to long hours of doing paperwork and dealing with bratty kids. “I’ll go ahead and blame the twelve-hour long migraine I dealt with yesterday, thanks,” he muttered defensively. After getting sick in the bathroom yesterday, Roy had attempted to resume to work for all of fifteen minutes before finally caving in and admitting to his team that he wasn’t feeling well and opting to head home. None of them seemed at all surprised at the confession, and Kain had jumped at the opportunity to bring him tea and medication after work as though he had been thinking about doing so the entire day. Roy had politely declined, saying he was planning on getting some rest, which he had in between episodes of pain that left him breathless and sick. He had never experienced a migraine of that degree before, and he could only pray that it wouldn’t occur ever again. 

Ed leaned forward, looking at him through narrowed eyes. Roy batted a hand in front of him to encourage him to back up a few feet, feeling uneasy about how close he was. “Why did you even come to work today in the first place?” Ed asked. “You looked like shit yesterday.” 

“I felt like shit yesterday, but I feel better today. It was a migraine, Fullmetal, we humans get them sometimes.” 

Ed frowned, but let the subject go. “Alright. Did you at least look at my report, you lazy bastard?” 

Roy sighed and opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out Ed’s report from yesterday, dropping it down upon the surface. “I skimmed it when I came in this morning. It looks fine, as far as I can tell.” 

Ed scoffed. “You must be sick if you’re going _that_ easy on me. Are you sure you’re not dying or something?” 

Roy rolled his eyes. “I’m not dying, and I’m _not_ sick. Now, what about…” Roy trailed off, thinking for a moment. “Lenora, was it? Did you get any leads following that suspicious doctor I told you about?" 

Ed shook his head, looking a bit defeated. Though he would never admit it, one of the worst parts about his job would always be raising Ed's hopes before each mission, only to let him down more and more as each lead fell apart. "I said that in the report that you clearly didn't read all the way through. Anyway, why else do you think I'm here? I came to ask what my next goose chase will be." 

Roy felt the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile. No matter how many times he led Ed down, the kid seemed to always trust him enough to come back for more. "I'll look into it, I assure you. In the meantime, why don't you stick around in Central for a while? I'll be sure to give you a call the first thing something comes up." 

Ed nodded, seeming satisfied with this answer. "Fine." With that, he turned to walk away. Roy watched him leave, surprised when Ed stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Just don't die or anything before Al and I get our bodies back." 

Mustang smirked. "I wouldn't dream of it, Fullmetal." 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It was a terrific day, according to Maes Hughes. With the sun glistening in the blue sky, and time in his schedule to pop in to visit his best friend, he had no complaints. Not to mention, Elicia had brightened his morning when she had helped Gracia make him breakfast. The image of her covered in flour and syrup still played in his mind, making him smile. He had snapped pictures that he was excited to show Roy, despite the Colonel's usual indifference whenever he looked at Elicia. Maes was convinced it was a facade, because there was no way anyone could look at his three-year-old and not feel a spark of joy in their hearts. 

"What do you want, Hughes?" was Roy's greeting as Maes entered the office, pictures already in hand. 

Maes pouted, one of his favorite ways to mess with his friend. "How can you be so cruel, Roy? After all, look at my baby girl's precious face." Hughes held up a few pictures in front of Roy's face with his usual enthusiasm, but backed off as he took a close look at the Colonel. After years of being by Roy's side through work and war, he was no stranger to seeing the man exhausted and worn. He wanted to express his concern, but as Roy's best friend, he knew to do so in a discreet manner that didn't make him feel as though he was being called out. Ten times out of ten, that would make him close himself off and put up the walls that he spent his life hiding behind in order to prevent himself from opening up to others. Really, almost every time Roy had ever opened up to him, it had been nearly 2am at a bar after both of them had more than a few rounds. Getting him to be honest about how he was feeling while sober seemed nearly impossible. "You sure look drained," he commented slowly with a small, sly smile. "Who did you stay up all night with? What's her name, and how dare you not tell your best friend about getting some? I thought we were like brothers."

Roy rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. "I didn't get laid, Hughes," he muttered. "I had a headache, that's all." 

Maes pressed on, taking in the information with interest. "A migraine?" 

Roy sighed. "It was like Fullmetal was screaming in my ear all night." 

Hughes frowned, silently considering this with himself. Roy was no stranger to headaches, but as far as Maes knew, he'd never complained of serious migraines before. "Do you know what triggered it?" 

Roy shrugged. "One too many interactions with Fullmetal? Or maybe it was the three meetings with General Grumman last week. Or the hundreds of pages of paperwork I've had every day for the past month. I don't know, Hughes, take your pick." 

Roy was in desperate need of a day off, that was for sure, but a request like that was easier said than done. After all, his goal to become Fuhrer meant more long days and nights than most soldiers of his ranking would have to pull off. "Why don't you come to my place for dinner tonight? You look like you could use a good meal, and you know Gracia's cooking is to die for. We would love to have you." 

Roy scoffed. "Somehow, I know that being around an eccentric two-year-old is going to do my head no favors. Especially if she's already taking after you." 

"Three," Maes corrected with a small frown. 

"Huh?" 

"Elicia is three, Roy." 

Roy shrugged, moving his gaze down to a paper in front of him, picking up a pen which he traced across the bottom. "How am I supposed to keep track of how old she is?" 

The comment surprised Maes, leaving him with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Well, for one, you were at her birthday party two weeks ago, remember? You got her a stuffed bear that had a ribbon around its next with the number three on the tag."

That seemed to get Roy's attention. The pen was slowly set down on the surface and he looked at Maes reluctantly, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in concentration. "Right, of course. I remember now." 

Maes didn't know if he believed his friend or not, and the uneasy feeling increased, turning to full-blown concern. Roy could be absent-minded about his family sometimes, but forgetting an event that occurred just a couple of weeks ago was an entirely different issue that went beyond mere forgetfulness. "Roy, are you feeling alright?" 

Roy sighed, and his tone was full of more irritation than the question actually warranted. "I'm fine. Leave me alone, Hughes, I'm busy." 

"That's the response of someone who is absolutely not fine." The look Roy gave him could make most people cower from fear that with one snap of his fingers, they’d be incinerated before even registering what was happening. However, Maes knew the Flame Alchemist all too well for it to scare him off. He decided on a different approach, desperate to connect with his friend. “What about drinks, just the two of us? We can have a few beers at the brewery downtown after work.” 

Roy shrugged. “Fine, but you’re buying.” 

Maes smiled. “Make the family man with a lower pay grade pay? Your cruelty never ceases to amaze me, Roy.” In actuality, Maes would buy Roy a hundred beers if it meant getting to the bottom of whatever was going on in his friend’s head. Truthfully, there was something immensely unsettling about his friend’s persona that Maes opted to keep to himself for the time being.

And that was the fact that he hadn’t seen Roy look this defeated since Ishval. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

At Albrecht Brewery, Roy sat at the bar counter alone, nursing a dark ale while he waited for Hughes. After the man had left his office, Roy had spent the rest of his work day contemplating the behavior of his usually eccentric friend. There was something Hughes wasn’t telling him--a fact Roy knew only due to years of being close to him. It was evident he was concerned--which Roy appreciated, despite believing it was unwarranted--but there was also an undertone that suggested Hughes’ worry went beyond what he was expressing. Roy would be lying if he said that it hadn’t made him consider his own behavior to figure out exactly what was going on in the Lieutenant Colonel’s head, but he couldn’t agree that a moment of forgetfulness and apparent exhaustion made it entirely justified. After all, Hughes gushed about his daughter on a daily basis, and the birthday party hadn’t been the only gathering that the man had put together on behalf of his daughter. How was he honestly expected to keep track of it all on top of everything going on in his own life? 

_But still_. The other day, while he was filling out a report regarding the arsenal budget for the last mission he had organized, halfway through he looked down only to realize he had started to prepare to take note of casualties as though it was a KIA report instead, despite not having lost any men. He had to start the whole report over as it was nonsensical, and he opted to fold it in his pocket, excuse himself to the restroom, and burn it over the toilet to hide all evidence of it ever occurring. He hadn’t written out a report like that since his days as Ishval when he, as a State Alchemist on the frontlines, had led his own battalion into many fights that resulted in deaths on both sides. What had come over him, he didn’t know, but he opted to disregard the matter and blame his exhaustion. That was getting more difficult to do though; the moments of confusion were occurring more frequently. It wasn’t every day, and it wasn’t always the same level of severity, but it was inexplicable. He also wondered if it could be related to the migraine he had yesterday. 

Maybe Fullmetal actually managed to finally overload his brain completely, and it was shutting down, just like that. 

The bell over the entrance of the brewery rang, and Roy didn’t have to look up as the stool beside him pushed out and a figure plopped himself down beside him. “Starting without me?” 

Roy smirked at Hughes. “Well, we do have work in the morning,” he reminded him. 

Hughes’ smirk returned his own. “Like that’s ever stopped us.” 

“You’re a family man now though, remember? I dragged you home one time and Gracia made it pretty clear that wasn’t going to happen again. That was before Elicia was even born.” 

Hughes turned an impressive shade of pink. “Don’t remind me. I slept on the couch for two nights in a row after that little stunt.” 

Roy shook his head to himself at Hughe’s expense. There was a time when he missed his friend’s days as a bachelor, but the slight bitterness hadn’t lasted long. He was more than happy that Hughes found someone to live for--a light that drowned out the darkness that accompanied the horrors of war and a life committed to the military. “I always knew you’d be whipped by a woman one day. Even before you met Gracia.” 

Hughes chuckled, slapping Roy’s back. “Now we just need to find a whip for you.” He held up his hand to the bartender, ordering the same thing as Roy. 

Roy smiled, both hands wrapping around his pint, gazing into it as though it could give him some sort of answer like a crystal ball. “I can’t imagine myself settling down,” he said truthfully. “Any time I try to picture it, it feels unnatural. I mean, what can I say? I grew up in a brothel--no relationships I was ever surrounded by were permanent.” 

Roy didn’t miss Hughes frown, but the man quickly recovered, putting on his usual cheerful persona. “Never say never, that’s all I’ll say.” He leaned back in his bar stool, quiet for a moment, and Roy knew that whenever Hughes was quiet, it meant he was stewing in something. Finally, just like always, his friend proved him right by speaking up again. “Let’s not forget the real reason why we’re here. I’m worried about you, Roy. Something’s going on.” 

This would normally be the time where Roy deflected and changed the subject. After all, it had taken a three-day bender and a threat of Riza’s gun to get him to admit that he was still traumatized by the war about a year after they returned from Ishval. But Roy was tired of running. He was tired of acting like nothing was wrong, and for reasons that were so far inexplicable, this felt different. “I’m not sure,” he admitted softly. “It’s just been my head lately, I guess. It’s messed up, Hughes, and I don’t know how or why.” 

Hughes didn’t miss a beat. “Is it the PTSD?” 

Roy smiled humorlessly. “Guess I’m just fucked up, huh? I skimmed those books you gave me all those years ago so I know how it can affect someone’s brain. I know ways that it’s affected mine. You’re probably right, just like you were right about it the first time.” 

Hughes squeezed Roy’s shoulder. “You saw more shit than almost anyone else, Roy. You definitely saw more shit than anyone sane. We all know the kind of damage that Kimblee did, but no way is he losing sleep over it.” 

Roy shrugged. “Yeah.” 

“You got my support, buddy.” 

And there were those words again. The same words Hughes had spoken to him in Ishval as Roy explained why he wanted to be the Fuhrer of Amestris. Except, this time, Hughes didn’t follow it with _‘but you could have just asked’._ Because now, after a few years of their friendship only strengthening over time, and Roy confiding in him in a way he never had with anyone else before, he no longer needed to ask. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Having a few beers with Hughes had helped his mood tremendously. As Roy entered his house, he threw his jacket over the armchair unceremoniously and collapsed down on the sofa. He was still feeling tired from fighting the migraine for a good portion of the previous night and he longed for a peaceful--and hopefully dreamless--sleep. His mind wandered off to his conversation with Hughes, specifically their mentioning of his PTSD. He supposed it made sense to blame trauma on whatever was going on with his brain now. After all, he was no stranger to the effects of PTSD and he knew that the list of symptoms was nearly endless and varied from person-to-person. Why it was affecting him this way now, he wasn’t sure, but he also knew that the universe had been shitting on him since he was a boy, so why not have the impacts of Ishval suddenly get worse a few years later? 

Deciding that he wanted to use a crutch that could help him get some sleep for a change, Roy stood up with a heavy sigh and shuffled his way over to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey that he kept in stock on top of the fridge. He poured a generous amount into the first tumbler he saw that looked relatively clean and made his way back over to the couch. He debated on whether or not he should take this time to catch up on some reading until he was tired enough to get some rest, or even turn on the radio and listen to a reporter recap the woes of the day. In the end, he didn’t do either of those things, but instead opted to look at the wall straight ahead while he stewed in his thoughts and drank. Maybe not the healthiest way to spend the evening, but Roy wasn’t in the mood to better his habits for the time being. 

He didn’t know how long he sat there in pathetic silence before it happened again. His tumbler--thankfully mostly empty now--slipped from his hand as he grasped his head while pulses of piercing pain stabbed his skull. It was like something was repeatedly skewering his brain and Roy was appreciative of the fact that he was alone and free from any judgement as a pitiful noise escaped his throat. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain dissipated, leaving him breathless. Roy hadn’t even noticed he had been biting his tongue until the only pain he felt was the throbbing within his mouth. “What the hell?” he breathed to himself, shaking his head as if subconsciously trying to prove to himself that the pain was really gone now. 

The migraine yesterday had made sense. It was easy to blame it on everything else that was wrong with him that led to sleepless nights as exhaustion was notorious to cause headaches. This episode, however, seemed inexplicable and bizarre. Maybe there was something else wrong with him, he thought, and Roy scoffed to himself at the realization because of course nothing could ever be that simple for him. 

Leaving the mess on the floor, Roy opted to go into his bedroom because at least if he was unconscious, he couldn’t cause himself further stress by psyching himself out with the ideas of what could be wrong. Either way, as he sank down on the soft surface of his bed and pulled a sheet over his body, he opted to discontinue the constant lies he told himself about his own well-being. 

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but Roy made the decision to talk to someone tomorrow as he slipped into a light sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty busy, so I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I do plan on working on this every so often when I can. More about Mustang's condition will be revealed with time.


End file.
